


So She

by Little_Cello



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Cooking, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 23:58:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5517908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Cello/pseuds/Little_Cello
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had promised her an experience she was never going to forget, and he bloody well planned to live up to his claim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So She

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Martian Holiday Exchange 2014, for master_pages. The prompt was "I would like some Sam/Annie fluff involving Sam surprising Annie by taking her somewhere she's never been before and/or trying a new activity together."

He had promised her an experience she was never going to forget, and he bloody well planned to live up to his claim.

 

Sam kept reminding himself of that over those few days preceding his and Annie's Christmas dinner date, when he ruffled his hair maniacally and cursed, nearly despairing over the fact that here, in mid-70's Manchester, it was nearly impossible to get all the ingredients he needed. Scratch that, it was nearly impossible to get even _half_ of the stuff. Nelson proved to be a big help in that department, but sometimes Sam felt like a drug junky, seeking out dark alleys and seedy shops to buy small packages of spices at astronomic prices. However, Sam Tyler was not one to give up so easily, and so he threw himself at the task with everything he had, essentially building up a network of informants and suppliers that any criminal would have been impressed with and jealous of.

 

The thing was, of course he could have gone the easy route. Mango chicken, for example, like the one he'd made for Joni. But that was precisely the point: He wanted to give Annie something unique. Something she was going to remember for years to come, and hopefully tell their children and grandchildren about.

 

_'The things your granddad did to woo me, let me tell you – that one Christmas Eve, he presented me with a dinner fit for an empress....'_

 

No, stop – he was getting ahead of himself. Sam lurched forward, only just saving the béchamel sauce that had been bubbling away on his stove, cursing softly. There was a small voice in his mind, telling him that he was way in over his head with this menu he'd put together, that it would all go wrong and he'd have to treat Annie to takeaway pizza (if that even was possible already in this era). Sam chose to ignore that voice, concentrated everything he had on the task at hand instead. He knew how to cook, he had consulted with Nelson for some of the dishes, and overall he was telling himself that it was going to be _fine_.

 

That, however, didn't keep him from loudly lamenting the fact that his kitchen – if you could even call it that – was far from ideal for this kind of endeavour. Sam had actually borrowed another portable cooking plate from Nelson, so that was an improvement, but he still struggled with the limited space and the even more limited tools.

 

No use complaining, though – Sam soldiered on, thanking God that today of all days, he was able to take time off without an emergency call from the station reaching him. By the time dusk settled, he was well on time with his plan, setting the plates and readying the wine. He'd decided to go with a Mediterranean-inspired menu (curry and the likes were comparatively easy to come by, and he _had_ promised Annie a meal to remember; and he'd decided against something from Eastern Asia, not wanting to completely scare her off either), and so it was a lasagna that was still in the oven, and before that there would be a tomato soup created by him, and before even that he'd planned a Greece plate of snacks and starters, complete with feta cheese roasted with honey. The lasagna of course was the main event – he'd altered the known recipe somewhat, adding vegetables into the mix – along with a salad consisting of a wide variety of vegetables (and a few grapes) and a dressing composed of yoghurt and a choice selection of herbs, and as a dessert he was going to serve the profiteroles he was currently busy forming. The chocolate sauce was already done, the salad washed, all the plates ready...

 

Sam glanced over into his living room – for this occasion, he had actually gone and bought a new, significantly bigger table. It clogged up a lot of space, but that was a sacrifice he was more than willing to make in order for this evening to be perfect.

 

 _Perfect_. Sam took a deep breath, placing the last sweet ball on the plate before him. He braced himself against the working board, staring ahead at the wall. Had he really thought of everything? Plates, food (he went through each dish in his head, ticking them off on his mental list), wine, light, music...

 

'Candles!' he said out loud, starting slightly. Within a second, he was searching through his drawers, through the cupboards, starting to panic – but no. There. With an audible sigh of relief, Sam pulled out the candle bearer he'd coaxed off Phyllis and placed it on the table, tilting his head slightly as he carefully pushed it this way and that, making sure that it was exactly in the middle. A glance at the watch – Annie wasn't due for another half hour – great, he still had enough time for everything. He went back to the kitchenette, rearranging the various plates and pots, placing some inside his tiny fridge to keep them cool, making sure that others still had a bit of heat coming. Then back to the table – it was time to taste the wine he'd managed to buy off a market stall owner (in exchange for overlooking the fact that he was lacking a permit, just this once), and... God, yes, this actually was up to the quality he was used to from 2006. With a satisfied little hum, he put his glass back on the table, and marginally adjusted the cutlery.

 

Now... just a few last things. Check the Christmas decoration – not too much of it, of course, just enough to bring a bit of festive cheer to his flat -, make sure all the plates and cutlery really are clean, check on all the dishes, one last taster of tomato soup... put the basket with ciabatta bread on the table...

 

… and finally, there was nothing left to do, and ten more minutes to go until Annie's arrival. Sam stood in the middle of his room, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel, staring at the cupboard next to his fake fireplace absent-mindedly. For several minutes, Sam didn't move, lost in his thoughts – or rather, thinking about what was inside the cupboard: The small box – just big enough to fit into his hand – wrapped in unobtrusive paper, adorned with a small twig of fir; he was trying to decide whether to keep it in that cupboard till the end of the evening, or whether to...

 

A smile spread on Sam's face slowly.

 

Why wait needlessly?

 

He moved, decisively stepping over to the cupboard and opening it, picking up the small package. Turning it in his hand as he walked back to the table, his smile widened a little, and Sam felt his heart picking up speed. Maybe it was too much to say that he was hoping for a Christmas miracle – definitely too much to say that, seeing as Annie had been very clear with her signals – but he still couldn't help but feel somewhat anxious. But that was just a small part of him; mostly, he was absolutely delighted and excited to be able to spend this evening with Annie, and to show off his full range of cooking skills.

 

And most of all, and despite being anxious about it – he was looking forward to seeing her face when she would open the box and see the--

 

The door bell rang.

 

Sam flinched slightly, but then an excited grin spread over his face.

 

'Coming!' he called, placing the box behind Annie's plate towards the middle of the table, still well in sight. Then Sam removed the apron he'd been wearing, quickly smoothed down his hair with one hand, and then finally he walked over to the door, took a breath, and opened it.

 

Annie stood in the doorway, looking slightly flushed from the cold, and absolutely radiant.

 

'Hello,” she said, a smile on her face that told him she must be just as excited and anxious as he was.

 

“Hello,” he replied, unable to contain his own smile. As she stepped past him into the flat, he relieved her of her coat, gesturing smoothly towards the table. And God – the way her eyes widened at the sight before her, her mouth opening slightly, the small inhalation of wonder...

 

Sam grinned with satisfaction. It promised to be a perfect Christmas Eve.

 


End file.
